The Memory of Sensations
by Poison'd
Summary: The senses of the human body create memories, memories of the past that hold questions and destinations for the future. He can feel her. Every aspect of his living, breathing body can feel her; this angel of demise crystallized before his presence. KxA.


This is my first ever Angel Sanctuary fanfiction and I, quite frankly, am excited. The story was supposed to be a tiny drabble, but now it is a miniature one shot. Do enjoy yourself, please, and leave me a pretty, little review while you're here. Thank you and, without further ado: the story.

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**The Memory of Sensations**

The soft smell of warmth from the dark concrete renewed itself as his hollow steps rang meticulously; the hint of a predator hidden underneath its tones. His eyes remained forward, watching the stiff air that seemed to flow between his immediate environment and the walls that contained it. He could feel his human body clench tightly at the bitter tinge of sulfur that seemed to run through that air; his lungs contracting in desperation for breath, the way a cigarette had never caused him before. On earth, he was a monster. In hell? He became consumed, his body not meaning a thing to the darkness that opened its jaws in a bellow of hunger. The ground could've rumbled under his feet with the pressure, but it remained quiet; the belly of the beast far under the surface he walked on.

A light glimmered along the edges of the wall, and his eyes unseeingly followed the broken paths it created like a reflection of water. He stepped with all the ease of a man going nowhere, following the light that shifted and danced; its fingers intertwining with the darkness as the two substances gained upon and entranced each other. He coughed slightly to stir the dead air that settled into his lungs and stopped to turn and look over his shoulder. No one was there, but he was sure the stench of his body was wafting clearly through their world.

He pressed his finger tips to the wall at his left and withdrew them almost instantaneously from the surprising touch of coolness that lingered like a long dead pulse. Gently extending the limbs once more, he pressed long, pale fingers to the surface and let the cold air draw the heat from his body. He dragged his fingers along the wall as he walked the few paces left between him and his destination; his heart propped up falsely on a shelf he alone claimed to be stable. Finally, he reached the entrance of the room.

_Here, I am, my mistress of death. Tell me, my lady, what do you see behind closed lids when eternity kisses you blind?_

Black eyes devoured the frozen crystal that stood erect before the hungry gaze. He slowly closed his eyes and reopened them, as if he really believed he could fall asleep and have awoken in a dream. Kira let his fingers drift off the frame of the doorway as he entered the presence of the once great angel. His liege. His lady.

She seemed to sleep peacefully, the hair that bordered her face falling to cascade over an exposed shoulder. He stood before her and watched her with a voyeuristic, predatory examination that left her feeble and weak before his eyes. Yet he knew that she was no more exposed than if she had been animate and had whispered the lie in his ear. His eyes rested to gaze upon the lashes that fell to rest upon her soft, white cheek.

_And as you whisper those sweet lies to me, what do you hear in the silence of my presence?_

Kira turned to the side and walked a few circular steps around the angel crystal that glistened from the light shining underneath it. He stopped and let his face rise away from the ground he watched pass under his feet. The soft sound of his footsteps died in the echo before he bothered to look at the softly sleeping figure condemned in chains.

His breathing slowed, but he could still hear the faint sound in the air. The breath that escaped from his lungs and into the hellish air of Gehenna died pitifully, leaving no imprint of an echo to etch in memory. Silent words. The breath, the pulse he could hear beat in his ears; all of it was silent words that each held their own precious indent of life. He looked at Alexiel, a bitter note caressing the once quiet pulse, as he wondered if she could read every movement of blood that moved through his veins. If the organic angel could know the wish of a sword who rest against her breast, then perhaps the spell could be reversed and he was not the only one invading the others thoughts and wishes.

_Then was the bitter vial given to me at birth, the same taste of sulfur that graced your lips?_

He swallowed the knot that clenched in his throat, but the same constriction came back a few minutes later. His heart quickened again and he breathed in to calm the rage of emotion that wracked his body, but the motion contradicted his steps towards the figure resting in the center of the chamber. He quickened his pace in a vain attempt to walk away from the pounding of his heart, but it only leapt into his throat. His head spun slightly in his attempts to breath.

The sensation of bile lingered in the back of his throat, as if he wished to remove the tainted organ from his body. He finally stood still before the goddess hung up by her own kind in an attempt to exercise her sinful ways. Kira remained before her without a change of complexion signifying the whirlwind of emotions that mixed with memories behind the mask. The deadly concoction tasted of blood, sweat, flesh, Kira felt his stomach muscles clench and he bit back the feeling of sickness that stirred within. He closed his eyes.

_When you held me, pulled my metallic body to yours, did you know what perfume you wore upon your breast?_

The smell of lilies drifted and mixed with the smell of blood and decayed bodies—a funeral progression to the lovely, angel of war. The white petals of purity, of virginity, were tangled in the scent of the earth of the garden his body had penetrated. Pale, feminine hands intertwined around long, green stems as the organic angel gently collected the flowers. Her favorite, he recalled. The beat of her heart had changed once when she had put the tip of her nose to the pistil and he had known then that she liked those soft, white glories.

His body suddenly tensed and thin fingers clashed against the thick, frozen surface of the crystal as his mind seethed. The flowers he imagined only an instant ago dripped thick with red that faded to a burning orange. He bit his lower lip as he rested his hot forehead against the cool surface of the crystal glass. Her body… her fresh, white body would tinge orange in the fall of sunset and her body would smell of the thick perfume of angel's blood. He wanted it, and his fingers strained against their perch at the acknowledgement of the thought. A strong sensation washed through his lower body and the heat of blood coursed through his groin.

_Oh, angel, chained as you are on the wall, what pulse beats through that body that could make you feel? Here is your body, and here is mine; do you remember what it was that I most desired…?_

His body relaxed at the futility of his harbored rage and his roaring passion, his brows unknotted themselves as he remained behind closed eyes. He pressed his lips to the surface of the glass that encased her loin, his hand curling slightly through imaginary strands. Every pulse in his body quaked against the contrast of the cold crystal and every touch of the hard surface fancied contrast with the cascades of long, brunette strands.

He stepped back away from the crystal and slowly opened his eyes, resting them on that face painted in sleep. Turning on his heel, he remained still as the little figure of Kurai stared surprised at the acknowledgement of company before her. He descended the steps away from the doll dressed up and erected for the pleasure of sinful angels, breezing past the small, demon princess bearing a gift. Something inside him stirred at the pleasant wash of sensation that the white lilies borne upon the tan-dusted arm submitted to him. As he walked back down the hall he'd come from, Kira felt his every nerve dance and intertwine among the commotion of senses that connected his borrowed form to that of the fallen angel, Alexiel.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Angel Sanctuary, as I am not the lovely artist, Kaori Yuki. In fact, I'm not quite that accomplished in that skill point. However, that deficiency does not stop me from employing my talents to create a tribute to Kaori Yuki and what is probably her most famous work. I did not make any money from this story, hence why everyone is able to enjoy the tale for free here. Thank you for reading and please review.


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